I Wish I Had a Girlfriend
by IsraeliBadass212
Summary: Based on Freddie's most recent blog. As soon as I read it, I got this idea. Freddie details little relationship problems between him and Sam, but ultimately tells us why it's worth it. Not sure how I feel about this, but tell me what you think. One-Shot.


The past couple of weeks have been surreal. If you had told me a couple of years ago that I was going to be so infatuated with one Miss Samantha Puckett, I would've called you insane, insane and delirious, because Sam and I just don't seem like a compatible match. She is, you know, naturally abrasive, and I'm, well, naturally a huge pushover. But that's why we work, you see, because through knowing Sam I've grown more into myself. These days there aren't many people who I can't stand up to because, when you can comfortably have a screaming match with Sam Puckett, very few things seem scary in comparison. (Not to mention the fact that I've kind of come to enjoy our screaming matches, but that's a whole other thing that I won't go into right now…) I'd also like to think I've had some positive effect on Sam, because she's become significantly less violent over the time I've known her, but I won't push that too far because she'd deny it anyway.

So I can confidently say I'm very happy in my relationship with Sam Puckett, but Sam certainly isn't like any other girlfriend I've ever had. (I've never actually had a girlfriend that's lasted for more than a week, but from what I've heard my relationship with Sam is unique.) First of all, after the initial shock of being in a relationship wore off, me and Sam's old dynamic has come back full force. (Well, maybe not full force, Sam has let off on the more severe beatings, but she's certainly not afraid to shove me to the ground and storm off to the kitchen to get some ham when she's mad at me.) Sam is not like other girls. She absolutely refuses to be subjected to the standard girlfriend expectations; she won't do things normal girlfriends wouldn't think twice about. When we're walking together to Carly's apartment after school, she won't hold my hand if anyone's looking, even people who don't know us. Sam is not a fan of public displays of affection, apparently. Sam's not lovey-dovey, and I can appreciate that, but there are just some things that I had always imagined would be more convenient to do with a girlfriend.

That's why I wrote that blog on iCarly. You know the one. And now I'm just sitting here, alone in my room, on a Friday night, waiting for her to notice. How do I know she hasn't seen it yet, you ask? Well, dear reader, I still have all my limbs in tact; that's how. WOW, she is going to KILL me. I really have grown a backbone.

But I had to, you see, because I'm a pretty laid-back boyfriend, and I don't ask for a lot. I hold her hand when we're walking alone, and I let her snuggle close and put her head on my shoulder when we're at Carly's watching a movie I hate (like Paranormal Activity, which I just don't understand the appeal of) and act like nothing's changed when Spencer comes in and she's suddenly two feet away from me. I can deal with all of that, and I don't even mind, but there are some things she is practically required to do, as my girlfriend, and she just, she just… refuses! (And no, I'm not talking about that. Get your mind out of the gutter!)

For example…

Last week, Sam and I were at the mall, just hanging out, and I had to make a stop in Bathroom Body Perks for some moisturizer, which I had just run out of that morning. When I told Sam we had to stop in the store for five minutes before we went to the food court, she whined and groaned for about five minutes before consenting to come in with me. "Come on, Freddie!" she practically fluttered her eyelashes at me to get me to change my mind. "Why can't you just borrow some of Carly's girly lotion when you get home?" she asked. Seriously, she spent more time trying to get me to change my mind than we were actually in the store.

"First of all, I have sensitive skin, and secondly, I need moisturizer, not lotion…" I started.

She rolled her eyes. "They're the same thing."

"No, they're not."

"Yes, they are." She said to me, almost forcefully.

"Okay, well, moisturizer sounds manlier." I tried to defend myself, but to no avail.

Sam rolled her eyes yet again. "No, actually, it doesn't." I gave her a look before grabbing her arm and pulling her into Bathroom Body Perks with me. Sam wrinkled her nose at the music playing, something that sounded much too folksy, which I didn't recognize. It didn't bother me, but apparently it wasn't Sam's cup of tea.

I dragged Sam to the back of the store to find my favorite cucumber-melon moisturizer, and Sam tapped her foot and eyed the shop impatiently while I looked for the moisturizer, as per usual. "This place looks like somewhere Nevel would go." She said, before smelling the air exaggeratedly. "Actually, I think I can smell his cologne, _a la douche_…"

I found the last bottle of the cucumber-melon moisturizer at the back of the bottom shelf. "Very funny," I said as I stood up. "All right, let's go…" I handed her the bottle, which she promptly handed back.

"Um, what're you doing?" she asked, incredulously.

"Can you pretend it's for you, please? Don't worry; I'll still pay for it." I told her, _very_ reasonably.

But, no. "Are you kidding me? I'll look like a daffodil." She seemed rather too shocked for it to be reasonable.

It was my turn to look at her incredulously. "Why not? It's not like she knows you. She definitely won't think you're weird; she _works_ here."

Sam raised her eyebrow at me. "The same could be said for you."

I rolled my eyes at her. "No, it's actually not the same at all, and you know it."

Sam smirked and once more placed the moisturizer which I had given back to her into my hands. "Yes, well, that's the curse you have to bare for having sensitive skin."

"Sam…" I groaned.

She patted me on the shoulder. "It's okay, Fredwad. I'll make it up to you after you buy me lunch at the food court." She smirked suggestively, and, as a guy, my mind ceased to work as a cheesy grin spread across my face, and I found myself moving towards the check-out desk.

The thoughts returned when I noticed the pretty blonde cashier giving me a strange look and heard Sam laughing softly from a few feet away. My face turned bright red.

That was last Saturday, but it wasn't the only incident even this week.

On Sunday, I was again hanging out with Sam, as I was oft to do these days, considering the fact that she was now my girlfriend. Sam had agreed to keep me company as I cleaned out my mom's elderly friend Marcia's attic. This was a big commitment for Sam because the attic smelled like a raccoon had taken a nap in it and then died. (Coincidentally, we did find a dead raccoon in one of the many attic boxes. Sam named him Smitty.) However, although Sam has proven time and again that she's stronger than me, she did not try to help me look through the boxes and organize them appropriately. Sam sat in the corner eating the box full of chocolate chip cookies that Marcia had made for us. (She told me they were delicious; I didn't get any.)

When I had almost finished with the cleaning, clearing and organizing, I found a cool, old-fashioned red two-seater bike. It was pretty awesome, I've got to say. It even had an old-fashioned little bell and everything, and I called Sam over, excited.

Sam got off her little perch and said "What?" before finding the source of my excitement. She raised both of her eyebrows. "Oh, I'd thought it was going to be something more exciting."

"More exciting?" I asked, startled. "What could possibly be more exciting than a cool, old-fashioned two-seater bike?"

She started to list things.

"Okay, well, to you maybe…" I said, a little put off, but continued looking at the bike, examining it closely. Marcia was moving to Florida, and had told me that I could take anything I liked that I 'took a fancy to'. Well, I took a fancy to this. "Come on, Sam…" I said, trying to get the bike to the attic door.

"What're you doing?" she asked me.

"I'm basically done here. We're going to take this home." I told her as I got it through the door, trying not to damage it on the way down the long, windy staircase.

"Wait, how are we going to get this home?" she asked, obviously not understanding the coolness of this bike. "We walked here from my house."

I gave her a look. It seemed obvious to me. "We're going to ride it to Bushwell, obviously."

Sam looked shocked for a second before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Seriously, she laughed for like five minutes straight. It kind of started to bother me after awhile. "Are… you… kidding… me?" she asked, in between bursts of laughter. "I'm not riding on that! We'd be laughed out of town! Your apartment is like five miles from here!"

When she managed to find her composure and stand up straight again, I gave her one of my world famous looks. "Come on, Sam…"

She gave me a look in return, and, trust me, Sam-looks tend to be even more productive than Freddie-looks. Hers clearly said 'no way in hell'. "Freddie, you can go ahead and ride that home. I'll be taking the bus like we planned. We can race."

Truthfully, I thought she was bluffing. Word of advice, never assume Sam Puckett is bluffing. Sam doesn't bluff.

But Freddie Benson doesn't give up easily either, so I actually did try to ride the bike single-person to Bushwell Plaza. For a mile I rode the bike, with much difficulty, towards my apartment and got many strange looks. Some particularly clever people shouted out things like "I think someone fell off your bike" or "I'm pretty sure you're riding that wrong". Trust me, it may not seem like it, but they were _hilarious_.

To be fair to Sam, around a mile into my very difficult bike ride, I heard a loud honking behind me. When I looked, I saw Sam grinning at me from the driver's seat of my mom's Subaru. Sam stopped the car, and I got off the bike. After I carefully placed the bike in the backseat, because it wouldn't fit in the trunk, I took shotgun. "My mom actually let you take her car?" I asked, incredulously. My mom wouldn't let anyone drive her car; I'd figured that would apply doubly so for Sam.

Sam grinned, "Nope."

Okay, fine, now that I think of it, that one didn't turn out that badly, but that doesn't excuse the fact that Sam left me to struggle my own way back home for a mile while she took the bus. Nor, for that matter, does it excuse the fact that she didn't think the bike was absolutely _awesome_. Spencer thought it was awesome. We spent the whole rest of the day riding that bike in the park near Bushwell Plaza while Carly and Sam walked around eating ice cream. And _everyone_ thought we were _awesome_.

So that one turned out fine, I suppose. But I decided things really needed to shape up today after school when I had a doctor's appointment, and I was waiting in the lobby for like, an hour, because Dr. Paine had gotten stuck in traffic or something. I had left school early, but I had specifically told Sam to text me when I had seen her after seventh period. This is how the conversation went.

"Sam, I'm leaving before ninth period because I have a doctor's appointment, but you should text me because I know that's what you'll be doing in math class anyway." I told her.

"Sure." She had said placidly for a Sam, which I had taken as a good sign. I kissed her goodbye before going to AP Trig.

My appointment was at 2:15, but I got there a bit early because I had taken a taxi. My mother was working for once, and because she usually drove 15 miles under the speed limit, just to be safe, I'd overestimated the time a bit. (This was also the first time I had taken a cab alone, and it was extremely exciting.) At 2:00 I kept looking at my phone over and over again, because that's when Sam's math class started. I waited. I waited a half an hour, still in the waiting room at that point, and Sam didn't even text me once. Not once!

Understandably, I was getting pretty annoyed, because Sam was probably texting Carly anyway, as she always did during her math period. Math was one of the classes Carly and I didn't have with Sam, because Carly and I were in AP while Sam was in the remedial math class where the teacher spent most of the time avoiding little paper balls that the students, especially Sam, would throw at him. About half way through the period every day, Mr. Buttburn, who had been promoted to a regular teacher, inevitably left and said he was going to the bathroom/teacher's lounge and wouldn't show up again. Truthfully, he just ignored Sam's texting, thankful she wasn't doing something harmful to him. So it was unrealistic that Sam couldn't have found five seconds to just text me a 'hey there' or something. I then texted her exactly that, hoping she had forgotten and would respond soon. I could only read a four-year-old copy of Highlights so many times.

Finally I felt my pearphone vibrate in my pocket. I quickly got the phone out to read the incoming text, thinking that I had been right and Sam had just forgotten that I wasn't in school. But when I looked down at my phone it said 'Mom' at the top with 'Don't forget your doctor appointment, cuz you need to re-fill your ointment.' underneath it. Ugh, my mom and her compulsive need to rhyme things. It definitely wasn't Sam. Sam always avoided making her sentences rhyme, even if it was just a coincidence.

So, here I am, six hours later, and she still hasn't even texted me once. Not even a small 'Sorry, Nub. I forgot. Come over to Carly's now.' That's why I decided to write the blog, to make a statement. Maybe she'd remember her boyfriend if…

"My phone broke." I heard from the door, and jumped, almost literally, a foot in the air. I turned my swively chair towards the door and saw Sam there, her arms crossed over her chess and narrowing her eyes at me, though I couldn't tell if it was because of the dim lighting or because she was angry with me. "I was trying to play a prank on Gibby when my phone fell in the toilet, which is why I couldn't text you. I waited for you at Carly's to explain, but you never showed up. I didn't come here because I forgot your mom was taking the late shift today."

I opened my mouth to respond, but I could find no words as she strode toward me. Oh, I was in for it, and I had been wrong, too. Wow. She leaned down and placed her hands on my knees, getting close to me. "I'm sorry."

Wow, I actually hadn't seen that coming. "Um… what?" I uttered intelligently.

Sam glared at me and stood up straight. "I'm sorry!" she said again, beginning to pace back and forth.

"Er… why?" I asked. I was so shocked that all my limbs were still in tact that I couldn't think properly.

Sam looked at me with her piercing blue eyes like I was the thickest person she had ever met. "I'm sorry," she gritted, "…for being a terrible girlfriend."

If I was shocked before, it wasn't anything compared to what I was feeling now. I didn't even notice myself standing up and walking towards her. "Sam… you're not a terrible girlfriend."

She gave me a look. "Of course I am. I'm Sam Puckett, selfish, mean and violent." I rarely saw Sam being so honest and upfront, so this was also a shock.

"Uh… no. You're not. You're Sam Puckett, the coolest person I've ever met, passionate and fun." I said truthfully, without a hint of sarcasm.

That's when she attacked me. And, no, not in that way. She attacked me in the other way, the _good_ way. She kissed me so forcefully it was convenient my bed was right behind us. It was awesome. Once again, all rational thought left my mind, as it always did with Sam. There was only Sam.

After a couple of minutes of that, Sam suddenly wasn't next to me anymore. She stood up and was fixing her hair; I gave her a questioning look. "Isn't your mom going to be home at nine?" she asked.

My eyes widened. "Oh crap, yeah." If my mom had come home and my girlfriend was in my room, she would kill me.

Sam rolled her eyes and grabbed my hand. "Come on, let's go to Carly's. We're going to watch Paranormal Activity II." She said.

And I grinned like an idiot the whole night, because Sam didn't drop my hand before we entered the apartment and she kept her head firmly planted on my shoulder throughout the whole movie.


End file.
